


When October Comes Again

by AnnaLouisa



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaLouisa/pseuds/AnnaLouisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Jason Grace disappeared from Camp Jupiter last October, the demigod world has been in chaos as Gaea and the Gigantomachy prepare to destroy the Olympians and take over the world and Roman and Greek demigods are at each others' throats. As an unwilling Reyna leads Camp Jupiter into battle against Camp Half-Blood, the Seven from the ancient prophecy return from Greece with a mentally unstable Percy and Annabeth. To make up for lost manpower, Reyna accompanies them on their return to the Ancient Lands. Tension mars the quest, and one line of the prophecy stands incomplete: An oath to keep with a final breath. Who will live? Who will die? Who will return to the praetorship of Rome? And at the end of the year, when October comes again, who will have their happy ending?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disarmament

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first published work on this site, so all comments and kudos will be greatly appreciated :) I've been working on this story for a long time, so I hope everyone likes it! Pairings will become clearer as the story continues, although if you've read the tags you should have a pretty good idea of the direction we're headed ;)
> 
> I do not own Percy Jackson & the Olympians nor Heroes of Olympus and I make no money off this work. All rights belong to Rick Riordan.

**Chapter One: Dismarmament**

_Clang! Swish! Slice!_

Reyna’s spear swung through the air, colliding with first one blade, then another as she knocked the strange bronze weapons away from her face.

It was the second day of the battle at Camp Half-Blood, and neither side had gained any ground. However, Octavian had taken an arrow to the bicep yesterday and declared himself out for the rest of the fighting, which put Reyna at an advantage: she wasn’t trying to counter some crazy augur’s decisions with orders of her own, and as a result was a much better fighter (and leader) than yesterday. Really, Reyna owed some Greek archer a favor. Maybe she’d grant that camper immunity if – no, when – Camp Jupiter won this war.

But none of that mattered now. She was under attack by at least five different campers, all of them bearing the emblem of Mars. She had made herself an early target with her skill in battle, and the centaur in charge had no doubt assigned the five campers in front of her to take her down. Unfortunately for them, Reyna had no intention of making it easy.

She was distracted for a moment as two of them swung at her at once, a spear and a dagger bearing down on her from two different directions. If she twisted in just the right way. . .

 _CLANG!_ The dagger hit her armor, leaving what felt like a very painful bruise, but she was able to block the spear. It was just as the spear went flying in the opposite direction that Reyna realized she’d fallen right into a trap.

In the next second, she was stuck with an electric spear, disarmed, and shot with an arrow to her calf - at the same time. A cry of pain tore itself from her throat before she could bite it back, and she dropped to her hands and knees, her calf unable to support her weight. She muttered a curse and reached for the dagger in her boot.

“Don’t move, girly,” a gruff voice muttered above her, but Reyna already had the small, lethal dagger concealed in her hand, and she froze. “Good.”

Reyna was hauled roughly to her feet and pressed against a sweaty, muscular body in full Greek armor. Not a second later, there was a dagger at her throat. Ignoring the weapon, Reyna began mentally reviewing her camp training. There should be a soft spot for her to stab her back-up dagger in on the side of the armor. . . there.

Reyna thrust her tiny dagger into the side of the camper with all her might, then jerked away from the knife at her throat. The camper who’d been holding her fell to the ground, and Reyna’s back-up dagger was ripped from her hand. She swore. That was her last dagger. Her cloak (with two other daggers in it) was too far away, but her hairpin would transform into a spear if she could get to it. . .

But she never had the chance. An arrow pierced her forearm as she raised it, and the explosion of pain made her stagger, just enough so that the burly daughter of Mars - no, Ares - could grab her.

“Nice try,” the girl said, sounding mildly impressed. “But not good enough. I can tell you’ve got plenty on you – this hairpin, for one, and those daggers in your cloak. Hand ‘em over. I don’t want to have to search you.”

This girl was good, Reyna had to admit grudgingly as she handed over her last weapons.

“Now, we’re gonna take you to Chiron and we’ll see what he wants to do with you,” the girl informed her, yanking Reyna’s arms around behind her back. This time, her years of training paid off and kept the cry of pain from escaping Reyna’s mouth as her injured arm (with the arrow still in it) was handled so roughly. Reyna thought the burly girl looked impressed for the space of a second, but it was gone too fast for her to be sure.

“Come on, Clarisse,” one of the boys with her said. “Let’s go get this surrender over with.”

Surrender! A hot wave of anger spiked in Reyna’s heart, making her throat clench. There was no chance she would ever surrender Rome to these people. Not without a fight. She lashed out at them, kicking and biting for all she was worth. Her captor, surprised, let her go, and she nearly toppled over. She leaped the rope holding her hands and managed to get her hands awkwardly in front of her. Clarisse, the burly girl, had just pulled out her electric spear when a voice cut through their fighting.

“Stop! Stop! Don’t hurt her!”

It was Jason Grace, son of Jupiter. He and the rest of the members of the quest for the seven had arrived last night in the Greek camp. Not one of them, including Hazel and Frank, had come to see the Romans, and Reyna couldn’t pretend that wasn’t a blow. The seven of them had valuable information about the quest – information the Romans needed to know.

“Clarisse, don’t hurt her,” Jason panted. “Don’t hurt her. Chiron will want to talk to her, and. . .” his voice faltered as he met Reyna’s glare, but he stiffened, “and so do I.”

“Chiron assigned us to her, dude,” Clarisse said belligerently. “We’re taking her to him so she can surrender.”

“Never,” Reyna spat, putting as much venom as she could into her voice. “I’ll die first.”

Jason looked worried. He would know she wasn’t kidding. He turned and waved his arms wildly, then turned back to their little group. “Clarisse, she’s not kidding –”

“And neither am I,” snapped Clarisse. “She’ll surrender or die, or maybe watch from the steps of the Big House as her army is destroyed!”

“You will never defeat the legion,” Reyna snapped. “The might of Rome stands with us.”

Clarisse just waved her hand, looking unimpressed. Suddenly, Piper McLean appeared next to Jason.

“Let’s all calm down,” she said, raising her hands, palms up. The tension in each of the boys’ shoulders loosened and the sons of Ares even lowered their weapons. Clarisse and Reyna, however, both stood staring suspiciously at Piper. “That’s better. Now, we don’t want to hurt Reyna, so why don’t you take her up to the Big House and let Chiron deal with it?”

Her words, powerful and sweet as honey, flowed over their little group. Jason and the sons of Ares all nodded eagerly, and even Clarisse relaxed a little.

“No,” Reyna snapped. “You won’t take me to him. I have a better idea.” Although not a charmspeaker by any means, years of making speeches in front of the Senate had given Reyna a powerful voice. “I challenge you to a duel, Jason Grace,” she declared, twisting her head awkwardly to look him in the eyes. “Just the two of us, one-on-one. If you win, I will surrender to your camp, and you will treat us fairly. If I win, your camp will surrender to ours and we will treat you fairly.”

Jason stared at her, and she knew what he was thinking: he had beat her in a duel only once, and that had been nearly a year ago (and a fluke at that). The odds were entirely in her favor, and Reyna was confident that she could win. All he had to do was accept. . . he had to know how desperate she was to make that bid. . .

“I accept,” he said, just as Piper opened her mouth. “It’s okay, Pipes. Clarisse, get her healed and then let her halt the legion. I’ll duel her.”

“Jason,” Piper began, but he shook his head.

“It’s fine, Piper. Come on, we’ve got to tell Chiron and stop the army.” He took her hand and they hurried off. Clarisse, meanwhile, turned to Reyna and eyed her suspiciously.

“You must have been desperate, girly. He’s a great swordsman. Percy’s better, but Percy was hard to beat. . .” her eyes darkened and she turned away.

Reyna wondered what had happened to Percy on the quest that would make Clarisse react in such a way. When she asked, the girl only stared at her, then shook her head.

“You’ll see soon enough, whether you win or lose,” she said. “It’s. . . hard to talk about.” No one would say any more on the subject, so Reyna accepted the nectar given to her with dignity and sat tall and straight, her face impassive, while they yanked out the arrows.

“Alright. Go stop your legion, then get back down here so we can resolve this,” Clarisse said, cutting the bonds on her hands. “And I’m warning you. . . don’t betray us.”

“A Roman always keeps her word,” Reyna said fiercely, her dark eyes boring into Clarisse’s. She didn’t wait for a response before sprinting off up the hill.

* * *

 

“You did _what_?” Gwen gasped in horror. “Reyna, what were you _thinking_?”

“I was _thinking_ there wasn’t a better way to get out of it, Gwen! I can beat him, the entire camp knows that, and then this can all be over.”

The two girls were standing on the top of Half-Blood Hill, their backs to the valley that held Camp Half-Blood, instead facing the grassy slope that was the barracks of Camp Jupiter. The sun was shining brightly, making Reyna uncomfortably warm inside her armor, and the grass under her feet was brittle and brown from lack of watering. Naturally, everything was perfect inside the valley; another reason Reyna didn’t trust it there. She knew from experience a pretty face too often masked an ugly secret.

“I still think it was a bad idea,” Gwen was saying. “Jason’s learned new techniques from the Greeks. You don’t know what he’s capable of now.”

“You make it sound like I haven’t grown at all over the past nine months,” Reyna snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve grown rather adept at blocking Greek attacks.”

“I wasn’t trying to slight you, Reyna, only to warn you. Even you can’t win everything,” Gwen pointed out, her voice tainted with a weariness Reyna knew all too well.

“I don’t have to win everything,” Reyna murmured. “Just this one fight.”

Gwen didn’t say anything more, and instead, the two girls stood facing the Camp Jupiter side of Half-Blood Hill, each mentally preparing for the future.

* * *

 

“Good luck, Rey,” Bobby said quietly, handing her her chosen dagger. She nodded once, and he moved aside, giving her a view of the impromptu fighting arena that had been set up in the Greek pavilion where the campers of Camp Half-Blood took their meals. One side of the pavilion, lined with orange shirts, was silent as they watched the preparations, but the sea of purple on the opposite side was abuzz with chatter, with campers no doubt placing bets and sharing theories on who might win and why. In the middle of it all, Reyna and Jason stood facing each other, ten yards apart, each contemplating strategy and weighing the others’ weaknesses. Greg, a rather mellow son of Mars who was trusted by both Jason and Reyna, was standing in the middle of the pavilion, ready to referee. He raised his hands and the legion slowly fell silent.

“Competitors, shake hands,” he announced into the silence. Reyna met Jason in the center of the pavilion. His hand was warm and sweaty in hers, his eyes flitting to hers and then away.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Arellano,” he muttered as they brought their blades in front of their face in a traditional Roman salute.

“Have some faith, Grace,” she retorted, then turned to stride back to her spot. When they reached their respective ends of the field, they stood facing each other, dueling arms (Jason’s left, Reyna’s right) extended, daggers pointing at each other’s chests.

“On your mark. . . steady. . . begin!” Greg yelled, and hurried out of the way. The legionnaires of Camp Jupiter knew all too well that a duel between Jason and Reyna was volatile and often unpredictable, prone to starting long before the referee was out of the way.

But for a moment, both hesitated. For just the space of a moment, no one existed but Jason and Reyna, who knew each other’s moves so well, who had been friends for years, and on the path to so much more before Juno/Hera interfered. For a moment, all that they’d shared stood thick and heavy in the air between them. And then the moment was shattered as Reyna realized that Jason, wearing an orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, was no longer on her side.

He ran forward to face her, and she leaped to her left, intending to make him barrel past, but had to defend almost immediately as he turned faster than she thought possible for him. His style, though still what would be considered Roman, showed a definite Greek influence – something Reyna hated.

She backed up, letting him follow her, limping on her injured leg. It didn’t hurt any more, but she knew Jason’s biggest weakness was her well-being - and hers was his. If he thought she was hurt, he might not –

Jason’s dagger swung through the air and Reyna brought hers up, catching the weak part of his blade on the strong part of hers, knocking it out of his hand and scratching it in the process, drawing a shallow line of bright blood down his palm. He hissed, then rolled to the side, grabbed his dagger, and came up standing. It was a move Reyna was used to and knew how to execute well, and therefore didn’t startle her.

They circled each other, watching the movements of each other’s arms and limbs. Reyna knew surprise, brutal attacks were not her forte, but at the moment, she didn’t see any other way to end this quickly. And it was something Jason would have never expected. She circled with him, making two more complete rotations, then lunged.

A burning pain erupted in her right arm, making her head spin. She gasped and backed away. Both her dagger and her arm were covered in blood. Reyna looked over at Jason to see that he, too, had a bloody dagger and arm, and something clicked. Her dagger had sliced open his left forearm, and his her right. They had both lunged at the same time, clearly intending to use the same tactic. Even when angry and in pain, Reyna had to bite back a smile. It was a trademark of how alike she and Jason thought that they’d managed to split each other’s arms open.

There was a muttering from some of the Greek campers, but no one moved to stop them. Reyna reflected that it was lucky she could fight with both her right and left hands equally, or she would have been down for the count. She and Jason had both had to switch hands due to their injuries, and it was in her favor that Jason couldn’t fight as well right-handed.

She lunged again, and he parried sloppily, going for the counterattack, but she danced out of his reach. Frustrated, he ran after her, managing to nick her collarbone as she turned. She gasped, cut a shallow scratch across his face, and skipped backward before he could return the favor. He attacked again, but she parried with ease. For a long time (or so it felt to Reyna, with the blood draining out of her arm), they attacked and parried, counterattacked and counterparried once more, neither able to gain an advantage.

Finally, Jason stumbled over a crack in the pavilion, and Reyna realized how tired and drained both of them were. Jason’s face was white from the pain in his arm, and his attacks were sloppy. Reyna knew she wasn’t in a much better state. She could feel the fuzzy edge to her consciousness that she got when she hadn’t slept for several days. That wasn’t good. She needed to end this before one or both of them passed out.

So she hung back, pretending the pain in her arm was too much for her to handle. Jason, of course, wasn’t fooled, but Greg and Bobby took a half-step forward as one, natural concern for their friend and praetor taking over. Jason’s eyes flickered to them for a second. A second long enough for Reyna to lunge forward, twist her hand down to Jason’s to yank the dagger from his grip. . .

A gold dagger flew across the arena, landing with a clang on the ground in front of Chiron the centaur’s hooves. The other dagger pressed against a throat, two faces inches from each other, their panting heavy, faces streaked with sweat and twisted with pain, but wearing identical expressions of shock mirrored on every Roman face in the pavilion. The unthinkable had happened.

Jason Grace had just bested Reyna Arellano at swordplay.


	2. The Paradox of Triumph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson & the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus and am in no way affiliated with Rick Riordan. I make no money off this work; it is purely for pleasure.

Chapter Two: The Paradox of Triumph **  
**

For a moment, dead silence reigned. Nothing w hatsoever made any noise. All the birds in the trees had gone silent, and not a single person in the arena moved as Jason and Reyna stared at each other, both in total shock.

Reyna’s mind was reeling, trying to figure out what had happened. She had lunged forward, twisting her dagger to meet Jason’s . . . but Jason’s wasn’t there. A twist of fate had made him turn just before her dagger connected with his, and he had jerked his arm backward, catching the hilt of her dagger and yanking it backward through her thumb, the weak joint on her hand. In pure self-defense, he had put his dagger to her throat, trapping her and winning the match, all in the space of less than a second.

The silence ended as Jason finally regained his composure and smirked at Reyna. “I win,” he announced simply, and with those two words, the entirety of Camp Half-Blood roared their approval, surging forward onto the pavilion. Jason dropped his dagger from Reyna’s throat as Piper and Leo reached him. Piper threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, and Leo whacked him on the back. Reyna was knocked backward as the crowd surrounded Jason. 

The scene, so familiar and yet so alien, reminded her of the Roman triumph at the Battle of Mount Othrys: the dense crowd screaming campers, the stench of body odor and blood, the air hanging heavily on her shoulders and lungs as she struggled to get away, her injured arm curled protectively into her stomach. She wasn’t sure whether it was the deja vu that was making her head spin or if it was just the blood loss, but she was clear on one thing:  get out of the crowd before you pass out .

She stumbled over a Greek camper’s shoe, and he gave her a disgusted look, shoving her away from him and out of the crowd. Reyna was so off-balance, so dizzy that she couldn’t even catch herself as the white marble of the pavilion whistled toward her. 

Bobby caught her, somehow, and managed to pull her to her feet. “Reyna, Reyna can you hear me? Reyna?”

“Bobby,” she gasped. “I’m fine, really, I just -”

“Don’t lie, Reyna.” Greg was there, too, tight-lipped and holding out a can of nectar for her. She took it and drank three long drags, feeling her skin heat up and her injuries knit together. It tasted of hot chocolate, her favorite not-exactly-Roman drink that she’d shared most recently with Annabeth Chase, but more often with Jason . . .

“Reyna? Can you hear me?”

Reyna’s vision blurred, twisted in a weird way, then finally came back into focus. She held up a finger and took two deep breaths before looking up. Bobby and Greg had identical expressions of worry on their face, but Reyna felt fine. The edge of fuzziness had gone from her brain, and her arm didn’t hurt any more. All her scratches had healed, and her energy had been replenished. 

“I’m alright,” she said quietly. “Help me up.”

“Reyna, you can’t really be planning to surrender,” Bobby began, but Reyna cut him off with a glare. The two were good friends, yet she was still the praetor, and he was not to question her decisions.

“A Roman always keeps her word,” she replied stiffly for the second time that day. “Now help me up.”

“Jason Grace doesn’t,” Bobby muttered, stepping aside to allow Greg to extend his hand and help Reyna up. She stood tall and straight, ignoring the lingering ache in the back of her head, and began to walk.

Straight through the crowd of Greeks that fell silent and shrunk from her as she passed. Straight across the white pavilion, shimmering in the sun, perfect except for a crack in the middle that came from gods-knew-where. Straight to a centaur standing tall and proud in the sweltering sun, a figure of legend. Straight to the doom of Rome.

The irony did not escape her that one of the very people who had sworn to protect and preserve Rome was the reason it was about to fall.

She reached Chiron and knelt at his feet, speaking words she had hoped she would never have to say. 

“I, Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano, daughter of the goddess Bellona and Praetor of Camp Jupiter, surrender myself and the forces of Rome to thee, centaur Chiron, director of Camp Half-Blood.”

“I accept your surrender,” the centaur replied, his voice kind. Reyna turned to face the Romans assembled at the edge of the pavilion. Struggling to keep herself in check, she ordered them to lay down their weapons. As they did so, knives emerging from everywhere in their armor, she watched her biggest fear come true. She had been unable to keep her family safe. She had bet everything they had on one match, and she had lost. Slowly, she removed the purple cloak that she wore, the symbol of a praetor, and laid it on top of her dagger. She was no longer worthy of her position as their leader. 

When all the weapons had been laid on the ground, Chiron stepped forward. “Well, I believe our armory has just been sufficiently extended,” he said, and there were laughs from some of the Grecian campers. “Let me see . . .  the sons and daughters of Ares shall move the weapons to the armory. The children of Athena, Hephaestus, and Hermes will guide the Roman campers to the arena, where they will be held and treated fairly, as promised, until further notice. This should include those currently in their headquarters outside our borders. Please set up  guards as well, and bring them food and water. The wounded may be brought to the Big House to be treated by the children of Apollo. Everyone else may begin to clean up the camp. I will speak with Praetor Arellano, along with those from the quest. Now off with you!”

The campers scuttled off to their jobs, and the Romans (on Reyna’s command) followed a large group of kids down the hill. Chiron, Reyna, Jason (refreshed after a few sips of nectar), Leo, Piper, Frank, and Hazel followed them to a large, light blue farmhouse in the center of the valley. Already, several blond-haired, good-looking kids were scrambling around on the porch, grabbing bandages and bottles of medicine. They all nodded respectfully to Chiron and kept out of his way as he lead his group past several rooms full of moans and groans and that awful hospital smell. 

They reached a wing that was absolutely quiet, except for one door, where small cries of pain and horrible, human whimpering as well as soft, soothing voices could be heard. Reyna was about to ask what in the name of Jupiter was going on behind that door when it opened.

“Chiron, Jason - shit,” a red-haired girl said, her green eyes widening as a howl came from behind her. “I didn’t know you were going to be here . . . shit. Percy, Annabeth, it’s okay . . .”

She turned and hurried farther into the room. Before anyone could stop her, Reyna stepped forward and leaned her head around the door.

“Reyna, no!” Jason said, his voice too loud. But before he could grab her arm and pull her back, Reyna had seen what was inside that door.

Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase were lying on a huge, king-sized bed. They were disgusting and filthy, covered in dirt, their hair greasy and lank. They were both injured, and grievously so, some cuts open to the bone. They were skinnier than Reyna had ever seen a human being, their elbows prominent and cheeks sunken in, hipbones too prominent. But that wasn’t what horrified Reyna the most. 

It was their eyes. Their eyes, once so beautiful and bright and full of color and life and fire, had turned dull and glassy, as though they were looking inside themselves and seeing things more horrible than Reyna could fathom. 

It had been Percy who had howled, and he was writhing, his emaciated arms and legs flying everywhere. One of them struck the cut on Annabeth’s wrist, causing her to release a cry of pain. Percy stopped writhing for a moment at her voice, reaching for her. 

“Annabeth . . .” he croaked, and his voice was raspy and weak, cracked, and  haunted as though he’d been to hell and back. His fingers had just brushed Annabeth’s arm when Jason yanked Reyna out of the room and slammed the door shut.

Another howl was heard from the inside, and Reyna’s knees went weak at the sound. Never in her life had she heard such pain in anyone’s voice, and she’d been through some pretty horrible things. She could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly, and fought to keep her composure.

“Come along, all of you,” Chiron said, his voice low and urgent. “We won’t do any good hanging around here. Come along, now.”

Reyna moved first, following him down the empty hallway, which suddenly seemed much too crowded and much too long. After what felt an eternity, they reached the end of the hallway, turned, and entered a simple room, spacious and with two or three pristine white couches. Reyna sank onto one of them, staring at the opposite wall but not seeing anything as she processed what she had seen. She concentrated on breathing in and out. 

In and out. 

In and out.

For several minutes, no one spoke. She could hear the muffled sniffles of the others, and the sound of water being poured into paper cups. Finally, she gathered the strength to look around at the others.

Frank and Hazel were sitting next to each other on the couch opposite Reyna, their hands tightly clasped. Hazel was leaning against Frank, her eyes closed, tears leaking out from under them. Frank had his head in the hand that was not clasping Hazel’s, hunched over his knees. 

Leo and Piper were sitting next to them, not touching. Leo’s fists were clenched and his face white, staring at his hands, his features marred by pain. For once, he was completely still. Piper was sitting stock still, fingers interlocked, eyes bright with unshed tears and locked on Jason.

Jason was standing in a corner of the room next to the water fountain. His fists were clenched and his face set in a hard mask of pain, every muscle in his body taut, tendons standing out.

“What happened to them?” Reyna’s voice was too loud, too sharp in the quiet room. “What in the world happened to them to make them this way?”

Chiron seemed about to deny her, but Jason spoke up. 

“They fell into Tartarus,” he said, and she could hear the undercurrent of pain in his voice. “When Annabeth went on her solo quest to get that damned Athena Parthenos, Arachne’s cave was over a pit to Tartarus. We knocked Arachne in, but Annabeth got caught in the silk, and Percy wasn’t about to let her go alone.”

Jason’s story was raising more questions than it answered, but Reyna listened intently, her face a well-practiced mask that gave no hint to the confliction within.

“They were in there for two weeks,” Jason continued. “We flew to Greece and fought our way through the House of Hades and got them out. They stumbled out those doors looking just like they do now. We did everything we could for them, but it wasn’t enough. They’re . . . they’re insane,” he said, his voice breaking and dropping to a whisper. He turned away from the room. 

Reyna had thought, when she surrendered Rome to Chiron not even ten minutes ago, that she could never feel worse. Jason’s story proved her wrong. She wanted to flee the room and run far, far away, to find a place to feel safe again, but instead she inhaled deeply through her nose and buried her emotions in the back of her head, to deal with later. She willed apathy to flow through her body. 

“What about the Doors?” she asked, her voice flat.

“They’re still open,” Piper said shortly. “Once we got Percy and Annabeth out we flew straight to Camp Half-Blood to get them the treatment they need. The giants are marching on Mount Olympus as we speak. We’re planning to leave again tomorrow to try and stop them.”

“You’ll be too late,” Reyna said. “There’s no way you can get to Greece in time if they’re already marching on Mount Olympus.”

“We detained them at the House of Hades,” Hazel said. “I erected a wall of stone to hold them back. It’s several meters thick, and it blocks the only way out. We’re hoping it will take them awhile to break it, and if it takes them as long as we hope, well - we think we might be able to get there, but just barely in time, if at all.”

The last three words hung in the air like a heavy curtain. There was no guarantee that Jason, Piper, Frank, Hazel, and Leo would be able to get to Greece on time, to stop the giants. But for that matter, it wouldn’t mean a thing if the gods were still schizophrenic. 

“And the gods?” Reyna asked.

“That’s the wild card,” Chiron said. “Annabeth has recovered the Athena Parthenos from Rome, and according to legend, it is supposed to be able to heal the rift between Greeks and Romans. It was unloaded last night and set up in the amphitheatre. The children of Athena seemed to recognize it’s value, but it was only after Jason told them the story that they understood.”

Reyna’s eyes snapped to Jason’s. Both she and Jason knew the legend well – the reason Greeks and Romans had never gotten along. “She found it,” Reyna breathed. “How in the name of Olympus did she survive?”

** No one answered her, but it wasn’t hard to imagine their thoughts: yes, Percy and Annabeth were alive, but given their condition, was that truly the better option?   
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any Percabeth feels I may have caused (oops?) All comments, kudos, and bookmarks are appreciated, so feel free to leave some! :)


End file.
